


The Contract

by orphan_account



Series: The Curse of the Black Sun [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-03-15 19:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13620246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: As much as some people might hope, Yanna is not the imprisoned princess townsfolk talks about. She is indeed quite the contrary. Being born under the Curse of the Black Sun, she's the much cherished experiment of a sorcerer. Besides the visits of her caretaker, Yanna is visited from time to time by hopeful travelers, who have heard the story about the damsel in distress - much to her annoyance.Eventually a certain witcher agrees to fulfill a contract, leading him close to the legendary tower, where things aren't quite like what he had heard about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> This is a re-upload of my story with the same name "The Contract". Since there had been problems in the past, I had to orphan the work, BUT now I'm back and I want to continue.   
> Hopefully you're still interested :D

Every day just like the last one.

 

The sun was shining violently through the single window in Yanna’s little bedchamber. Groaning, the woman pulled her blanket over her face, trying to blank out the glaring light. It was too early. Far too early for her to rise. A little bit more of sleep, that's all she wished for - at least for now. But she knew. If the sun was already that high, her weekly 'visitor' wouldn't take long to arrive.

With a final sigh she pushed the blanket back down, blinking against the sunlight and rubbing the sleep from her face. Yanna stared at the ceiling for a moment, dark thoughts slithering their way up her mind. It felt like the ceiling was coming closer day by day. Soon to crush her with its weight.

The bed groaned beneath her with every movement as the woman robbed to the edge of it. Dirty blonde locks blocked her view while doing so. Tiredly she pushed them aside.

The floor was cold beneath her feet, making her shiver inevitably. She had to hurry with cleaning herself up if she wanted to be done with it when Cyril arrived. The last thing she wanted was being caught by him in a precarious situation.

Pulling her worn nightgown over her head, she tumbled blindfolded over to her dresser with the washbowl on it. After she had thrown the piece of cloth back onto her bed and cleaned her face, she rummaged through the drawers for something to wear.

Fully dressed in a simple long blue skirt and a light blouse, she made her bed and waited. Strange. It either had taken her faster than usual or Cyril was being late. Something that occurred just once in a while and only when he had something _very_ import to attend to – besides her, that is. Looking around the circular room, which serves her as a bedroom, she aimlessly searched for an occupation. Something - anything - to keep her busy until her visitor would arrive. Yet she found nothing of interest. Yanna let herself slump onto her freshly made bed with an exasperated groan.

It peeved her terribly that she was so fixated on him. She used her spare time to wait for him, while she actually hated every minute he’s with her. Yet, she couldn’t do anything when she actually knew, he was soon to arrive. She didn’t want to let him see what she did when he wasn’t present. She didn’t want to give him that additional information about her, as trivial as it may be. He already owned too much of her life.

Minutes passed until she heard the familiar crackle right before the portal appeared in place of the door, which led to the stairwell. The strange orange and black light – or was it a substance? – filled the doorframe. Yanna pushed herself up from the bed just in time as the tall man stepped through the portal, closing it right behind him with a _swish_ as he had emerged completely.

“Yanna, my dear. I see you have awaited my arrival. How quaint.”

He smiled his usual tightlipped smile which never reached his hazel eyes. The blonde woman restrained herself from grimacing at his oily black hair that he had combed back so that it touched only his neck. She had more than once seen a portrayal of the Emperor of Nilfgaard and now that she thought about it, Cyril does look like a cheap replica of him. Even though he was the younger one in appearance, he was the less striking looking one.

“Has the cat caught your tongue? Was that the saying? Well, anyways. We have our duties to attend to, haven’t we?”

That was indeed an odd behavior of his. He was always about small talk. Must be because of his delay. But Yanna didn’t complain. Quite the contrary. She always suffered under his prying eyes and his endless trivial questions about her day. As if anything exciting would ever happen to her.

She sighed imperceptible, yet relieved, and followed him over to the window, where he urged her to sit down on the chair below the window. The usual procedure as every week followed: Cyril took some of Yanna’s blood, felt her pulse and made her drink a disgusting potion of his. Then he asked her ridiculous questions. This was always the fun part. After he had written down her reaction to the potion, he looked her sternly in the eyes, quill in his one hand and paper in his other.

“What would you do if you could save a group of persons, but had to choose between sacrificing yourself and sacrificing another person you don’t like?”

Yanna thought for a moment. Thought honestly about it. There had been many times when she would’ve said the most ‘evil’ option, just to give him something to think. But the other times, she had been honest and gave him the ‘good’ answer, the self-sacrificing ones. But with this question, hm… Decisions, decisions. Her gaze wandered down to her bare feet while her fingers drummed on her crossed legs.

“I’d sacrifice the person I don’t like.”

“I see, I see.” His quill flew over the paper, scratching down whatever ambiguous answer she had given him. With this being done now, it wouldn’t take much longer. If he hasn’t brought an experiment of his, that is. But today seemed to be a lucky day. He was quite rushed in his inspection. Besides his usual requests, he kept quiet. Really odd.

Yanna was watching her caretaker with knitted brows as he packed his things up again into his black leather bag fitting his whole outfit until she couldn’t hold back any longer. He was after all the only company she gets, so why not ask about his delay?

“Why did you arrive this late? Did something happen?” Anything exciting?

His hazel eyes locked with her blue ones, a smirk gracing his face. “Worried, are you?”

No. No, not at all. Just looking for  _something_ interesting for _once_. “It just struck me by surprise, that’s all. You’re never _that_ late.” She pursed her lips, avoiding his eyes.

He straightened his back and looked outside the window, down at the small stream as it looked from her sitting position beside him. His look became distant and Yanna feared he might start one of his endless accounts. But then he smiled down at her, looking like the cat that got the cream. “I have paid heed to your complaint about this wraith you can hear every noon and put an offer on the notice board in town. It didn’t take long to arouse someone’s interest.”


	2. Chapter 2

_Read closely if you're interested in earning good coin and don't fear the supernatural!_   
_I, as well as all the inhabitants of this town, am in need of a fearless adventurer who frees us from the ghost roaming the lands close to our cherished home._   
_Indeed, a horribly disfigured specter can be seen north west of the fields outside the town. Close to the stream south the tower._   
_Everyone willing to fight the wraith - come see me. My house is right beside the blacksmith._   
_Cyril aep Craag_

Quickly the woman read over the contract Cyril had handed over to her shortly before.  
„Who took the offer?“ Yanna, whose eyebrows had hit her hairline, was curious, yet doubting.  
There had been many – so many that she had stopped counting – that took chances like this to prove themselves – as inept, that is. She saw this happening with all those hopeful men, adventurer or passers-by, who had heard her allegedly story. They have heard the story about a princess from a kingdom far away, sometimes it was Nazair or Beauclair, who had been imprisoned by an envious sorceress. Or they have heard about a cursed maiden, who can only be freed by true love’s kiss. And one time, that one was by far her favorite, some man had called up to her to ‘let her hair down’. The man had been shocked, to say the least, when she had showed him her that her hair only touched her shoulders. He had made a vulgar gesture and left.  
Cyril leaned against the windowsill as he looked quizzically at his ward. “A vatt'ghern, of course. Do you think I would let any of these cretins from town do this job?“ He clicked his tongue. „What do you think of me?“  
Yanna only lifted one of her brows at him. That should be answer enough. But she was intrigued by his choice of ‚employee‘. She had only heard stories about Witchers, as none of them had come close enough to her tower for her to see. She could only hope that she would be able to have a good gawp at this one.  
As her interest in this conversation was revived by this tiny detail, the blonde leaned forward in her chair, propping her chin on her hand. “So, what did he look like? Why was he in town? Did he really have two swords on his back like it’s said?” Her blue eyes must’ve twinkled like those of children listening to stories about old heroes. The sorcerer only chuckled huskily.  
“Well, well. I didn’t know you take such an interest in these people.” Cyril pushed himself away from the window and brushed some imaginary dust off his black robe. “But sadly, I have to leave. I need to stick to my schedule. Curses don’t break themselves, as you may know.” Without further ado, he took his bag, bowed courtly at Yanna and made his usual strange gesture at the doorway. And as per usual the portal returned to bring him back to where he came from.  
“Until the next week, my dear.” And with that he was gone, as was the portal.

* * *

 

After a rather uneventful day - who would have thought? - Yanna caught herself the next day more than once observing the fields expectantly through her windows, whether it was the one of her bedroom or the one in her kitchen.

Noon had nearly passed, the wraith’s awful howling audibly in the whole tower, and the witcher hadn’t appeared. Slowly Yanna was growing impatient. She wanted to see that man. Also, the unnerving wailing had to stop. She might be safe from harm inside this tower, thanks to Cyril’s spells, but harming her from outside the tower was still possible – not to mention by hurting her ears like the unfortunate soul down yonder.  
Groaning, the woman threw her book down onto the bed she was sitting on. She had decided it was best to distract herself from sitting in front of the window like an idiot, which hadn’t been the best idea she had that day. Grappling her hair, she stifled a frustrated cry. Yanna was about to cover her ears with her cushions, as the sounds rose into a bloodcurdling scream. Well, that was new.  
Quickly, she scrambled off her bed, her bed sheet getting tangled up with her legs. Roughly, she wiggled her legs free, while she made her way over to her window. Blinking against the sun light, Yanna scanned the fields with her eyes for any sign of the specter. There might be no sign of the ghost, but instead of it circling its usual spot was a man. A living one, luckily. There was a rather big distance between him and Yanna, but as far as she could see he was wearing a red jacket, had dark hair and – thank Melitele – one sword in his hand, while another one was still attached to his back.  
“Finally!” Yanna’s face lit up with a smile, excited to see the witcher in action. He moved so… so gracile, yet with so much resemblance to a predator. He was lethal. Suddenly the ghost reappeared to the side of the witcher, the woman caught by surprise at this abrupt occurrence. But the man didn’t seem surprised at all. He quickly made some strange movements with his one hand – Yanna feared for his life, was he mad? – and magical-seeming symbols appeared on the ground around him in a circular shape. The monster didn’t leave much time for Yanna to wonder about them as it attacked the witcher quickly. Or not? It seemed to be a bit slowed down and more physical…  
Slashing and slicing through the dead woman’s thin body, the witcher remained relentless. Dodging some of her pretty slow attacks compared to his, he moved so fast, it was hard for Yanna’s eyes to follow. Then, the wraith was gone again with a poof. The symbols on the ground were gone as well. But instead of one ghost five reappeared. Oh shit. But this unfair draw didn’t seem to affect the witcher much. He only sidestepped some slashes of the women and left Yanna’s field of vision. Oh no. Nonono. She wanted to see the fight! Hastily, she opened her window and leaned out of it, as far as the spell keeping her inside the tower would allow her to. There he was! Making somersaults. What a sight! Yet, to his defense, there were only two ghosts left. And within a moment even those were gone. While her eyebrows had shot up in surprise, the hair on her arms stood up in anticipation. Every inch of her tingled. The real specter came back with a poof from wherever she had been hiding and screamed at the dark-haired fighter. Again, he generated the circle around himself and sliced through the porous garment. This time, the monster seemed to be slower, maybe even weaker. The silver swords always found its way into the wrinkled and sunburned skin of the woman, making her cry with every hit. With one last fierce slash, the wraith screeched inhumanly, making Yanna hiss and her skin crawl. Grabbing at nothing and no one in particular the monster was gone. For good this time. Hopefully.  
The woman was still staring at the place the wraith had been just a second ago, as the witcher was looking up at his spectator. Now, that he was so close to the tower, Yanna could see that his face was scarred. But she couldn’t make out any details. It was still a long way down. She felt unsure about herself for the first time this noon. Should she wave? Or should she go back inside? Could she say anything? In her panic, which had quickly arisen, she took the bed sheet that she left at her feet and shook it out. Like the women in her old home town had done every morning. Done with her pretend-cleaning, she nodded shortly at the witcher and closed the window. Yanna stepped some feet away from the window and stood on her tiptoes to see what he did. Seeing nothing for a while she thought he would camp under her window, but after some minutes she saw his figure walking toward the town. Yet he turned back around, something in his hand - a pouch? - seemingly undecided. The blonde awaited what he would do. Would he come back or leave?  
He left.  
Discontent spread in the woman. She had hoped- well, what did she hope for? That he would free her? Absurd. Yet, she was sad to see him leave.  
Maybe, she should’ve said something. What did he think of her? The strange woman in the tower?


	3. Chapter 3

One day.

One day so boring and slow-paced she thought it would never end. And yet it had. Yanna would’ve lied if she said she wasn’t hoping the witcher would return. Ironically just like the day before, she looked out of the window every time she passed one. But there was no one visiting her tower. No witcher, not even a passer-by. It was really frustrating to be caged inside the tower too far off the near-by town.

The next morning was just as eventful. The sun was shining brightly and the birds were chirping merrily. An actually nice day, besides the loneliness, that is. The woman turned in her bed, which was protesting with croaking in return. It must’ve been after sunrise for some time now.

Yanna stared at the wall facing her bed. Her tired eyes lost their veil of sleep slowly and her hand found its way from under the blanket to a stray curl of her hair, twisting and turning it tiredly. She sighed heavily. A _tick_ was audible. Some clicking sound. Yanna thought nothing about it and kept staring at her crème-colored wall. Another _tick_ sounded. And then another. Languidly she turned over and flipped her blanket off her body. The sudden cold left her body with goose bumps. She groaned extensively and lurched over to the window. Who – or what – bugged her so early in the morning? She glanced out, searching the ground for any sign of a visitor, but couldn’t see anything. Maybe a bird was pecking against the window in hopes of finding something to munch on? The blonde shrugged and turned around, ready to dive back into her cozy bed, when another _tick_ sounded.  She stopped dead in her tracks and moved slowly around. No bird. Slowly she emerged the windowpane again. But this time she opened it and leaned out to see _who_ was throwing things at the glass. And there – a man.

Tall, bulky and with dark hair, which adorned not just his head, but also his chin. And he quickly let whatever he was tossing up go. Yanna couldn’t make out much more about him. Just that he wasn’t the witcher. Sadly.

“Yes?” It sounded more like a sigh than a question when the woman spoke.

“Finally! My lady has emerged!” He seemed to straighten his clothes and cleared his throat audibly. Then he got down on one knee and put one hand over his chest, while the other one was stretched out to her. It was quite the sight. Knowing what would follow, Yanna pulled the chair closer and sat down.

“My fair lady, I have come to save you from whatever evil power has trapped you inside this tower! Do not fret, no one will ever hurt you again when we are united. Nothing can stop me to prove my love and will.”

Propping her chin on her hand, Yanna shouted back down: “And how do you plan to get me out of here?”

“Your voice is just as beautiful as your looks. But don’t you think too much about that. Your freedom is close.”

“Ah.” She twisted a hair strand with her other hand and waited.

Her ‘savior’ got back onto his feet and moved over to the overgrown door. The woman had to lean out pretty far to see him. With a sword, she hadn’t noticed until now, he cut the vines and freed the door from its green coat. Then he tried to twist the handle. Without success. Yanna rolled her eyes. After some more tries he began to throw himself against the massive wood. Again – without success. He stepped away from the door, looking up at her again.

“It seems like your prison is well guarded.” Yes, by a door. What horrendous guardian. “You do not have some kind of a rope up there, do you?”

Yanna refrained from palming her face with her hand. She glanced inside her room, looking longingly at her disheveled bed, and then back down. “I’m afraid I’ve nothing of that sort.”

“Then, I’ll –“, he looked lost, “I’ll climb.”

Oh dear Melitele.

“No! No.” She laughed awkwardly. “Nonono. You don’t need to. I’ll look for another way to leave the tower. You just stay down there. On both of your feet. No need to break your neck.”

The last thing she wanted was to have a lovesick fool in her chambers. Because the problem wasn’t getting up, it was getting them down again. Because _she_ wasn’t leaving. She couldn’t. If she could, she would have left this shithole years ago.

But Sir Knightly down there was only laughing at her. “Oh, love. You make me happy. Don’t you worry so much about me. I’ll be up there in no time and you can thank me with a kiss.”

Ugh. A grimace adorned her face. A kiss would be the last thing she would plant on his face. A fist – yes. What could she do to get rid of him? He was starting to become a problem. Cyril hated it when men would come to the tower – not that there was ever a lover or something like that. The sorcerer just didn’t like it when there were others getting close to his ward.

Frustrated she rubbed her face. Think. Think. Think. “Hey! Maybe- … Maybe you could return tomorrow again? I’ll see to it that I can create a rope out of my clothes and bed sheets. So that you can stay down there, safely.” She tried to smile down hopefully, but it might have ended up pretty forced. Not that the man would’ve noticed.

“But will you make it? Spending another day in your suffocating prison?”

“Yes, I’m sure I’ll make it.”

He bowed deeply. “Then I will see you tomorrow. Until then, my love. Dream of me in your sleep.”

He slowly moved away from the tower, still facing her – nearly stumbling over a bump in the ground – before he ran back to town. Yanna made sure he was not coming back, before she sunk down on the sill, sighing loudly. She had to think of _something_ to get rid of him for good this time. She was all about to get up again and close the window, heading back to bed, when she heard an unfamiliar voice.

“And what will you tell him tomorrow?”

Curiously the woman lifted her head and eyed the ground below. And there he stood. The witcher.


	4. Chapter 4

“I haven’t thought about that yet. Any suggestions?” Yanna shrugged, clearly for the witcher down at the foot of the tower to see.

She might be acting indifferently, but she was full of joy to see him again. But, to be honest, she didn’t quite know what to do with him now, down there. He was undeniable a wonderful change to her dull day-to-day life. But he was also a chance. A chance she _had_ to use. Otherwise she would regret it terribly. But first things first: She needed to get him to talk to her.

“Heard strange things about you. Stories always change. Care to tell me the truth about you?” The man crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Well, that was certainly the most straight forward question she’s been asked. And it’s a very good one. Yanna stifled a laugh. Finally a man who cared to ask _about_ her, not _for_ her.

“This, my dear witcher, is the right question. Why don’t you come up and we can chat a bit? I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” She leaned forward on her chair and cupped her chin in her hand, rising a brow in anticipation. She knew it was a risky thing to ask a man, and in this case a witcher, into her tower, but she had really nothing to lose. At least it felt that way – must be a token of her curse.

“My medallion is vibrating heavily. The tower – or what lies within – is full of magic. That true? How will I know it’s no trap?”

“It’s no trap. Not for you, at least. Don’t worry. You can come and go as you like. Nothing will happen to you when you come up.”

“Right. Door’s closed.” He seemed to sigh and shake his head, but Yanna couldn’t tell for sure. He tightened the belt of his swords around his shoulders and stepped closer to the tower – leaving the woman’s sight. She leaned even further out the window to gain sight of him again. He looked up at her and she gave him a thumbs-up. She won’t tell him that nobody ever tried to climb the wall up. It would only generate the wrong picture of her. He’d do it. He was a witcher after all.

He placed one hand on a protruding stone and the other on the doorframe. Then he pushed himself up, so his foot was placed on the door-handle. He proceeded with the climbing, while Yanna realized she was still wearing her thin nightgown. Frowning she estimated the time he might need and decided to quickly throw herself into a dress – not to impress, only to cover up what needed to be covered up.

While she was halfheartedly combing her hand with her fingers, she heard heavy breathing from her open window. Scurrying over, she arrived right on time to pull him up by his arm. Pulling with her whole weight, she was taken by surprise when she lost her footing and fell on her backside with an _oof_. The witcher, stumbling into the room, quickly regained his balance and massaged the arm she had pulled. But after this tiny moment, he offered her his hand, which she gratefully took, and helped her up.

“Now, I think you wanted to tell me something.” He crossed his arms again and looked sternly at Yanna. The woman, on the other hand, looked with awe at the man in front of her. He was tall, nearly two heads taller than her, and he looked like he was hiding a good amount of muscles under his clothes. His face – well, Yanna could tell that he was a man of the hunt. The right side of his face was heavily scarred, and his eyes were as it was told in the stories: the golden eyes of a cat. They reflected the sunlight beautifully. All in all, he was pretty attractive, but Yanna might have a special taste for men. He must’ve felt her looks, because he cleared his throat and shifted his weight onto his other leg. Visibly uncomfortable.

Feeling awkward, Yanna pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and gazed down at her feet. “Riiight. I said so, didn’t I? Well, since you’re a witcher you’ve probably heard about the ‘Curse of the Black Sun’? Yes?  Well, you’ve got one of its victims in front of you.” She didn’t look up, his feet were suddenly more interesting than his face. But there was a stillness, something that she could feel, that wasn’t right. If telling someone you’re cursed, would ever feel right. Ha. Carefully, Yanna looked up, but she was only greeted with a stony mask on the man’s face. But it appeared like something was going on inside of him.

“I take it you know what I’m talking about?” He nodded briefly, but kept quiet. The blonde took it as a sign to continue. “I was taken by a sorcerer named Cyril – you’ve met him. He was the one who has hired you to kill the wraith.” She pointed to the window. “I was around twelve when he found me. We traveled around for a while, never finding a fitting place to stay. But after three years or so, he found out about this tower and - well - here we are. I’m sitting inside this tower for… for fourteen years.” Saying out loud how long she was Cyril’s experiment was … depressing. Having to admit to herself that she was imprisoned for over a decade struck a nerve, to put it mildly.

A lump was forming in her throat, but she continued since nothing like an answer or reaction came from the dark-haired witcher. “The stories and rumors you’ve heard, they started as soon as I moved in. My light has probably woken folks interest and they saw me while investigating the tower. I’m neither a princess nor a damsel. But I am certainly cursed and in distress.” She managed to shoot him a small smile, even though she did not feel like smiling at all. Giving him that teeny tiny piece of herself so easily, made her realize how lonely she was. She moved over to her bed and slumped down onto it, wringing her hands.

“Now, that you know, is your interest in me stilled? Or do you still have burning questions?”

He stayed where he was, looking her up and down. Not in a lusting way - he didn't seem the type for that -, more like he was pondering if he could trust her words. After a moment he looked her in the eyes. “Just two for now: What’s your name and what do you want from me?”

A sad smile entered her face. “My name’s Yanna and I want you to free me from this personal hell of mine.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Alright, Yanna. Got any idea how I should do that?” The witcher looked quite grimly with his arms crossed over his chest. But he had a point. One that Yanna herself couldn’t really deny.

“Well, I was hoping that you’ve got an idea regarding that. I mean – you’ve met Cyril aep Craag. Did he say something about me? Did you ask him? How did you learn about the many tales about me anyways?” She knew that these were a lot of questions. But she needed the answers. They had to work together, her and – “Besides, what is your name? If I may ask?”

“Eskel. And I asked him about you. Didn’t take the question well. Was pretty defensive about the tower. The townsfolk I asked were more talkative. Told me every single tale they knew about you and your home-”

“This isn’t a home.” Yanna grimaced. “This is a prison. A magical trap.”

“Tell me about it. Could use some insight.” Eskel waved his hand at her, dismissing her distaste for his choice of words completely.

Yanna sighed annoyed and shrugged, muttering as if she had learned the facts by heart – which she basically had: “The tower is surrounded by a magical barrier, which prevents me from leaving. I can neither leave through the door downstairs – it lacks a doorhandle, besides it’s magically locked -  nor can I climb down. Because this is where the barrier becomes effective.”

“How?”

“It’s like - hm, let me think – how do I put this… It’s like I am swathed in some kind of invisible net. I can’t move, except back inside. I’ve tried everything. No use.”

“Hm. How often do you get visits?”

“Normally none. Except Cyril’s weekly visit.”

“None? Then how do you get the fresh water in your sink? Your food and clean clothes?”

“Magic. Every morning when I wake up, there’s fresh water in my sink. Downstairs, in the kitchen, is a basket full of ingredients for cooking, as well as two pitchers with drinkable water. The clothes lie clean on my commode.”

Eskel nodded his head and was silent for a moment. As if he was sifting the facts. Then he must’ve found something missing, because he asked her: “How does Cyril arrive? Through a portal?”

The woman nodded and answered, before he could continue: “He closes it right behind him. There is no chance I could outrun him and flee through it.”

The witcher nodded again, returning to brooding. Silently Yanna waited, wringing her hands nervously. She wanted his help. But the more he asked - the more she told him - she got the feeling it was impossible to free her. Her hands were cramping, when the man started talking.

“I’ve known someone. Someone like you-“

“Like me?” Yanna looked incredulous at the man in front of her. “You mean, a Child of the Black Sun?” She raised a brow at him. Silly, how everyone acted about this so called curse.

“Yes, a curse victim. She -… She had an aura that made it impossible to cast spells around her. Not even signs. No kind of magic worked around her. Another curse victim was immune to magic. No spell worked on her. You might just as well have some kind of immunity to magic. Maybe you’re just not as … trained as them.”

“Yeah, well. Being stuck inside this tower doesn’t do much for my training. All I get to do is drink horrid potions and answer stupid questions to help Cyril analyze this stupid Curse. And for what? He hasn’t learned anything! In all those years he has neither found out if I had an immunity, as you put it, nor any way to break the Curse.” She has thrown her arms up in rage, her face burning with heat for the same reason. This was bollocks. Her whole life was bollocks.

“Maybe he hasn’t told you.”

“Pah. Then why does he continue his experiments?”

Eskel shifted his weight onto his other leg, arms still crossed. His grim look met her furious one. They stared at each other for a bit, until Yanna blinked her anger away. Her belly began to rumble – she hadn’t eaten anything yet and it was after midday. She sighed and got on her feet, slowly crossing the room to open the door to the staircase. “I’m going to make me something to eat. Do you want some too?” She offered him an appeasable smile – even though she hadn’t been angry at him.

He lifted his hand, negating, yet followed her. “No, thanks. But I’ll come with you. Need some more information.”

“Alright. Ask away.” They went down the stairs, the tiny windows – or more like crevices – lighted the stairwell only a little. The woman opened the heavy kitchen door and examined the basket, while the witcher seemed intrigued by it as well – maybe with other intentions. Cheese, bread, tomatoes, eggs, honey and lots of more stuff were in there. But Yanna only grabbed the bread, the cheese and the tomatoes for a quick breakfast, or was it lunch? Anyways, while she ate, Eskel looked around the kitchen, he didn’t even pay her a glance. It was like he was completely sunk into his thoughts, but with a lot of alertness. Probably a witcher thing. She watched him curiously, while biting heartily into her bread.

“What exactly are you looking for? Any bread crumbs under the sill?” Yanna looked amused at the witcher, who was currently kneeling under the window, wiping something from the floor. He looked up, clearly miles away with his thoughts.

“Huh? No, no. It’s just… The dust **and** the bread crumbs,” he looked at her, slight amusement in this glance, “are charged. Like they’re gravitated to something behind the wall. Must be the barrier’s doing.”

“Probably. What of it?”

“Nothing. Just interesting.” He stood back up in his full height – Yanna was still amazed by it – and brushed the dust off his trousers. “Eaten up?” He nodded at her leftovers.

“Yes. Now, what did you want to know? You didn’t continue.”

He suddenly looked …embarrassed, if you could say so. The witcher didn’t really sparkle with emotions. But something in his demeanor had changes. “I need to ask this. Just to be sure.”

“Go ahead.” She waved his hand at him, signaling him to continue.

“Have you hurt someone? Were ever so angry with no reason, you just went crazy? Killed someone?”

Yanna looked at him dumbfounded. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water. Then she laughed. Laughed loudly, until he cleared his throat. When she had regained her composure, she wiped a tear from her eye. “If I have killed someone, went crazy… Pfft. No. Not once. I know what the usual characteristics of a Child of the Black Sun are. As I told you – I was a young girl when Cyril isolated me.”

“Doesn’t make it impossible.” Again, Yanna raised a brow at him, pursing her lips. He looked so sure about it.

“Well, I didn’t kill anyone. But I was angry, quite often. Perhaps for some people without reason, but for me, there was always a reason to be furious. But even then, I didn’t hurt people. I ate it up. I wasn’t in the position to get the anger out of my system.”

“What do you mean?” Eskel looked warily at her, walking over to the chair opposite hers and sitting down, the table with the basket and the pitchers between them.

Sighing, Yanna shoved some crumbles away. Maybe it would help her, if she told him her story. If not for her rescue, maybe for his understanding of her version of the curse.

“We lived in a small duchy. -“


	6. Chapter 6

“My parents would’ve never forgiven me if I’d let my anger show. Since they had already given so much to hide my Curse. Only nurses and the physician knew my true birthday, the rest of the castle and the whole country thought I was born on the day after the eclipse.” Yanna’s eyes lingered on his hands which laid folded on the table.

“Why have you been angry?” His fingers tightened around each other.

“This and that. About simple injustices, like having to keep in my rooms, not being allowed to attend festivities. But sometimes I was angry about everything – no, wait. I was angry about how my parents treated me. How they talked about me behind my back. The knowing glances of the physician when I was not feeling well. The gossip of the nurses. How they tried to handle me with kid gloves, while at the same time, tried to isolate me from the whole world.”

“What kind of things did they do?” Eskel had begun to massage his wrist.

“They always found a way to make it reasonable that I couldn’t get my will. So that I would be foolish to be angry at them. But I needed to be angry. It was eating me up. When they felt I was becoming furious, they would only lock me up. Hide my feelings. I wasn’t allowed to make friends, since I could never meet anyone. They never talked to me like they loved me, like the daughter I was. I was more of an unwanted ward.” Yanna paused. Her throat was dry. “They were scared. Of me.”

The witcher on the other side of the table kept quiet. His hands had stopped to move and he was completely still. The woman sighed, she had stopped to cry about this many years ago. She looked up, even though she didn’t feel like it. She must’ve looked morose.

But instead of making a remark about her nagging, he looked sympathetically at her. He even mumbled: “Sorry about that. I know how it’s like being feared and unwanted.” Yanna felt stupid. Of course. Of all the people she could’ve whined in front of she chose a witcher. A man who was accused of being a monster, a mutant, an outcast. She sunk in her chair, looking apologetically at Eskel.

“I didn’t want to- Sorry. Of course you know.” She looked back down, at her own hands this time. She sensed his movement and after a second, she felt his hand on her shoulder, patting it kind of awkwardly – but it was appreciated. Smiling sadly, she looked in his golden eyes. How beautiful they were. He removed his hand after lingering on her scrawny shoulder for a bit longer than necessary, ripping Yanna out of her trance.

“How did Cyril find you exactly?” He asked quietly, but he refused to look in her eyes again. Strange.

Breathing deeply, the blonde answered: “I don’t know the details, but one day my father came to my room, accompanied by Cyril. They knocked and I opened. I remember the unsure look on my father’s face. The two men entered and Cyril approached me. He had looked so pleased and asked me to confirm my date of birth. Then he returned to my father and talked softly to him. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the next thing I remember is that my father fetched a servant to pack my things up, while I was standing there like a fool, wondering what the hell was going on. No one cared to elaborate their plans to me. And when everything was cut and dried - Cyril had handed my father a big pouch -  _Cyril_  – not my father – told me I was to go with him. Right this instant. And so I did, because I couldn’t spend another minute with that backstabber.”

“What about your mother?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t seen her. But she must’ve accepted the fact that she was selling her daughter, since she didn’t try to prevent my departure. And after I left, I never got a message from her or my father.” The wrath she had collected over the years began to build up in her. She was so angry with her parents. How they sold her. She was angry at herself, because in the early years with Cyril she had been thankful that he had taken her. She clenched her fists and bit on her tongue. Her body was hot with rage and she wanted to – ugh. Hit something or someone. She only wanted to get it out of her system.

The witcher, who was watching her warily, suddenly offered her a hipflask. “What is that?” “Vodka. Might help.” Yanna eyed it, but took a sip nonetheless. Then she shook her head along with half of her body and coughed, whereas Eskel only laughed about her - short, but definitely amused. But it tasted horrible! “Ugh. Thank you.” She gave the flask back. It had worked. She wasn’t thinking about her parents anymore, but about the burning in her throat.

“Now. What do we do?” Hopefully the witcher had an idea, because Yanna certainly had none.

He was silent for a moment, obviously thinking, and then he spoke slowly, as if he still wasn’t sure. “Either we manage to break down the magical barrier or we persuade the sorcerer to let you go.”

“He would rather die than let me go.”

“That would also be an option.”

“You’re willing to kill him? I thought I was the cursed one.”

Eskel only huffed as an answer. But he was right. The spell he had put on the tower might vanish when the magician died. He gave it its power, after all. Downcast about their lacking possibilities, Yanna studied the wood grain of the table.

“Howsoever, we – I – need to talk to the sorcerer. When is he coming to visit you again?”

Yanna counted the days backwards. “In four days. But you can’t be here. Cyril will be furious if he sees you – or any other person. He doesn’t like it when people come by the tower. What do you think he’ll do when he sees you  _inside_?”

And as if she had summoned him by her talks, Yanna could hear the crackle of the portal above, for the kitchen door was still open. The panic made her heart race. “Shit!" What was he doing here?! Hastily she stood up, nearly kicking her chair over. She ushered the witcher to get on his feet and shushed him over to the window.

“Yanna!” Cyril shouted from above. He sounded angry. What  _was_  he doing here?

Eskel visibly didn’t want to leave, he tried to move past her, but Yanna grabbed his waist and shoved him over to the window.

“Yanna!” He became impatient.

“Coming!” Yanna shouted back. He couldn’t come downstairs or she and the witcher would be in trouble. “Now, go. Go!” She opened the kitchen window. “Climb down. But keep to the wall. He can’t see you there.”

“I won't go. Why is he here?” Eskel tried to escape her grasp, but she had clinged to his coat. She had pinned him to the window. They were so close, that Yanna could smell Eskel - he smelled of sweat, earth and leather. But he stood right in front of the window. Perfect to shove him through.

“I’m sorry.” She said, tilting her head back to look in his eyes, before she shove, hardly with all her weight. Somehow she had taken him by surprise, since she stumbled backwards, and lost his footing. He tried to grab the frame, but failed and the next thing Yanna heard, beside a surprised gasp was the sound of Eskel landing in one of the bushes below. Thank Melitele he didn’t hit the ground.

Rushed and breathless, Yanna ran upstairs, hoping Cyril didn’t notice anything in his anger about whatever made him so furious. And there he stood, arms crossed behind his back, foot tapping on the ground, the usual serious countenance. He looked like a disapproving father. “I’m sorry. I had made me lunch.” He eyed her distrusting and shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter.” She waited patiently for him to continue. Surely he would explain to her what he wanted. “Surely you ask yourself what I am doing here, Yanna.” She nodded courtly, he dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “I’ve come to hear one of the townspeople – a disgusting bear of a man – boasting that he’ll leave with the ‘beautiful lady in the damned tower’ tomorrow and that said lady was head over heels for him.” Yanna cursed herself and that man. What an idiot.

“I-“

“Ah ah ah. I don’t want to hear anything. What I want is that you keep to yourself. Don’t talk to anyone beside me. You do not open your window if anyone stands below. You keep away from them. Understood?” He had stepped closer, pointing his finger at her. Yanna eyed it hatefully, but kept quiet and nodded. “Good. This peasant won’t bother you again. I took care of that.”

The woman looked him sternly in the brown eyes. Whatever it was he had done, it would surely keep the man away. Cyril was no one to joke with.

“Now. Go back to what you did and do keep my words in mind. Next time, you’ll be in more trouble. I am done with your escapades, girl.” Another point with his finger, then he conjured his portal and left. Not looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the last of the "old" chapters. Now I'll start to write the new ones :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of the new chapters. A short one, but I'm already working on the next ^^  
> Hope your as glad as me to have those two back :D also: featuring Scorpion  
> Also, I added my tumblr on my profile if you're interested

Still filled with anger about this very unlucky encounter, Yanna frowned at the vanishing portal. And as soon as the crackling wasn’t audible anymore, the woman rushed over to the window in her bedchamber. Tearing it open and leaning out as wide as she could, the woman scanned the ground for the witcher. Knowing that he had hit one of the bushes below, he should have made it without breaking his bones – at least that’s what Yanna thought (and secretly prayed for). But she couldn’t see him from her current position.

Sighing she scurried downstairs, back to the kitchen window, which was still wide open. A gust of wind made the blonde shiver - cooling down the last remains of her rage. All of this just because of Cyril and his claim of ownership on her. With a firm grip on either side of the frame she leaned out of the floor-length window. Even though she couldn’t fall down, it made her feel much safer to hold closely onto something solid.

Again she scanned the ground below, the bushes were now right under her window. And there he was. Cursing like a sailor while trying to free himself from the thorns and leaves of the roses. But still alive and well - mostly. She should have warned him about the roses, but - eh. He’d survive. He’s a witcher, a few thorns in sensitive places won’t kill him. The alternative – being caught by the sorcerer - would have been much worse.

“He’s gone.”

Freeing his jacket from leaves and thorns, Eskel glanced up at her. If looks could kill… Yanna tried it with a sympathetic smile, but a smirk was winning over. This was too good. Far too good for her to ignore.

“I’m sorry. Should have warned you about the roses. Cyril thought they were adding just the right touch to the tower. Their scent is quite lovely, don’t you think?”

“Oh, shut it.” More of a growl than a proper answer. Touchy. But she wouldn’t push him. After all, she needed him.

“Sorry.” This time the look on her face was honest and sympathetic. Yanna moved from her half-standing-half-leaning position over to sitting. Her legs dangled out the window – a light, yet noticeable pull towards the tower-wall - while she sat on the cold stone floor.

Eskel huffed and shook his head, some leaves and thin branches still entangled with his clothes. But then he looked back up at her again, his demeanor less offended and more calm. He was still some feet away from her, yet she could make out his facial features. His scars, his nose and his eyes. Oh, how they had glistened in the sunlight.

The look on her face must’ve told him enough to raise his eyebrows. “What are you staring at?”

“Oh”, she paused, embarrassed about her behavior. One man of ability and she turned into a gushing mess. Get it together, woman. For lack of a non-humiliating answer, she simply pointed to her own hair, mirroring him, and simply said: “You got a leaf right there.”

Luckily he dismissed her strange acting and picked said leaf from his hair. “What did the sorcerer want?”

She watched Eskel for a tiny moment before answering with a long sigh. “It was about the man from earlier. Remember? The big bulky one.” A nod from the witcher. “Cyril heard him boast about me and made sure he won’t come to claim his conquest.” Bitterness made its way to Yanna’s heart. Sure, she didn’t like those ‘visitors’, claiming her as if she was a prize. Yet she didn’t want them to suffer such a fate – whatever it was Cyril did to them.

“Damn… At least we don’t have to worry about him coming back tomorrow.” A bitter laugh was the only answer coming from the woman. Turning her eyes from the witcher, she inspected her hands lying in her lap. Hoping that Cyril would’ve been merciful was useless. Yanna’s known him for so many years now and never had he omit a chance to remember her about his superiority. He wouldn’t have been merciful – especially if it was about such a precarious matter like her. She was his biggest acquisition after all.

The movement down below caught Yanna’s attention. Eskel was fastening his two swords on his back, still looking disheveled from the thorny landing.

“Coming up again?” Yanna looked quizzically at her accomplice. He hasn’t finished his inspection, has he?

He shook his head. “No. Need to investigate something in town. Another contract.”

“So, you’re leaving?” Somehow she had hoped he would keep her company for a while. But apparently Eskel was a man of the road and she a stranger. Sadly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back in the morning.” Hm, that was only slightly comforting.

“What can I do in the meantime?” Anything, so she wouldn’t feel like the useless lump she was?

“Focus on your magical resistance. Might be useful.”

She rolled her eyes. Of course. Since that’s so easy. Sighing heavily, Yanna pulled herself up again. The witcher was already backing off, but still facing her.

“See you tomorrow, Yanna.”

Slowly but surely a smile crept on the woman’s lips.

“Till tomorrow.” She waved him good-bye and he turned around, whistling  deafeningly. At first, she thought it was a shot in the dark. But shame on her, a majestic black steed approached from outside her field of vision. Eskel got onto its back and rode towards town, leaving Yanna and her thoughts alone.

“Come back soon.” She whispered, leaning against the window frame, watching him becoming smaller and smaller in the distance.


	8. Chapter 8

Two hours, three hours? She couldn’t tell anymore. But it surely felt like an eternity.

After the witcher had left, Yanna had gone upstairs to sit on the chair in front of her window. There she’d pondered how she should train something she didn’t even know she had back in the morning. ‘Focus on your magical resistance.’ Because it’s that simple. Ha. A few moments had passed, leaving the woman completely frantic with her thoughts. But as the sun was gone and the moon rose on the night sky, it hit her. Magic. Training her magical resistance only needed one thing – magic. And lucky her, living in a tower completely surrounded by a magically created barrier should be just the right thing. Until then she had depreciated the pull back inside as an unchangeable thing, but with a bit of luck and an iron will, she might be able to free herself.

And since she had this glorious idea, she was hanging outside on a makeshift rope out of blankets, tablecloths and scarves, which was strapped to the door handle. The window was still within range. If everything went according to plan, she didn’t want to hit the long-awaited grass with a broken spine. But the success had yet to come. Her arms already burned like hell and the pain in her head didn’t make things easier. Yanna tried to ascribe her headache to her mastering the newfound ability – just to improve the morals. To no avail.

Groaning exasperated, she chanced her luck one last time. Strengthening her grip on the ‘rope’ she stretched her left leg to the next protruding stone below and focused on the visible net that held her in place. She didn’t want to know how silly it must’ve looked from beneath. It wasn’t important.

The only thing that counted was that she was one step closer to her goal, as she was able to reach the stone and moved further down. Her foot might have trembled like a leaf from the effort, but nonetheless she did it. Finally! Laughing relieved and letting out a shaky breath, Yanna closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against her arms. One step. One step closer to her freedom. She had to tell Eskel about it when he’d arrive the next day.

Still grinning Yanna pulled herself up again, even though her arms hurt like hell. Reaching her window, she moved one leg after another inside on the stone floor. Having solid ground beneath her felt much better than the cold wind around her body. With a contempt sigh, the blonde changed into her nightgown and fell into her cozy and warm bed. Completely exhausted and hurting all over from the strain she hit the cushions near-complete asleep.

* * *

 

She was rudely awakened by the unusual loud sounds of birds chirping and a cold draught, making her skin crawl. Why was it so cold, why was it so loud? Groaning and covering her face with her blanket, Yanna needed a second to notice the deep and husky laugh coming from the opposite side of the room. Wait what?

Suddenly wide awake, the woman pushed her blanket back down and nearly jumped out of bed, looking wide-eyed at the intruder.

Eskel leaned casually against her commode, swords strapped to his back, arms crossed over his chest.

“Ever heard about knocking?” Her heart was still racing in her chest, but she recovered from the initial shock, which was quickly replaced by indignation.

“Can’t remember you opening the door below for me before.” He smirked at her. Oh, he didn’t dare to be so gleeful. She pursed her lips. 

“Well, it certainly is impolite to watch a maiden sleep.” She bent down to gather her blanket from the ground and moved back to the bed, while he laughed at her. How rude. Yet she couldn’t prevent herself from smiling.

“I thought you were no maiden.”

“I said I was neither a princess nor a damsel. Huge difference there.”

“Point taken.” They smiled at each other, before Eskel withdrew his glance and cleared his throat. “I’ll wait downstairs for you to change.”

Oh. She forgot about her thin nightgown. Turning slightly red, she nodded at him, which he took as a sign to leave through the heavy door. Yanna watched the door close before she got back up on her bare feet and walking over to the commode - against which Eskel had leaned just a moment ago - and changed into something more suitable.

* * *

 

He was sitting on one of the chairs at the table and closed an empty glass vial. The freshly filled basket was standing before him, but he didn’t take anything from it. Yanna was closing the door behind her after she had entered the kitchen.

“You know, you’re free to eat if you’re hungry. I’ve never managed to eat everything.” She pointed at the food. The witcher thanked her, but didn’t touch the basket.

The woman made herself comfortable on the chair opposite his and frowned at the large choice of breakfast-possibilities. “Witchers eat, right? Or don’t you need to eat?” Two boiled eggs and a three slices of bacon made their way onto Yanna’s plate.

“We eat. Just did so earlier. Unlike you, sleeping beauty, I’m already awake since dawn.” She only shrugged at him. His loss.

While she ate her breakfast in silence, Eskel unstrapped his swords and leaned them against his chair, making himself more comfortable against the back of the chair.

Watching him intently, the blonde remembered her achievement from the night before. Swallowing the last bite of her food, she moved in her chair, getting closer to the edge of it.

“You know-“

“Wasn’t-“

Both stopping mid-sentence, their eyes found each other. Yanna smiled amused, while Eskel had raised one brow. The man motioned the woman to continue with a swift wave of his hand in her direction.

“I… I managed to focus my ‘magical resistance’ last night.” A proud smile entered her face. “About 6 feet – down the wall of the tower.”

The witcher’s eyebrow was still raised. He looked like he was contemplating what she just said. But then he shook his head. “What about the barrier?”

“That’s the point – I could disable it to an extent, with a lot of headaches that is... My former attempted escapes never went that far. I was merely able to get on the other side of the window.”

Maybe she was wrong and her pride was blinding her, but he did look impressed – perhaps. Maybe. A little bit. Having both brows raised – even if it was just for a short moment – and nodding approvingly seemed like it. At least for Yanna. Even if it wasn’t the case, it didn’t prevent her from grinning widely.

“Small progress. Now we need to know how long you can keep that up and to which dimension. Now it looks like your resistant to spells is already created. But perhaps you could even manage to resist spells cast on you.”

Yanna’s grin faltered just like that. Eskel certainly knew how to be a bummer. Groaning, she let herself sink against the backrest of her chair. “Great. And how do we find that out?”

 “Easiest way would be to get this Cyril to cast a spell on you.”

She sighed. That’d be a terrible idea, since she didn’t really know what kind of spell he’d cast and if she really was able to resist it. “I’d rather not test that. Isn’t it enough to enable the barrier? I could try to extend its duration… I could leave without Cyril knowing I’m gone.”

Eskel scratched his head, thinking about it. It’d be the easiest and most harmless way. She didn’t really want to confront Cyril directly. She’d rather not see him any time soon. The witcher finally nodded his head. “Alright. We’ll try, but if it doesn’t work-“

“Yes, yes. Then we’ll see to Cyril.” Yanna dismissed him. She was more interested in what he wanted to say earlier. “Your turn. What was it you wanted to tell me?”

He cleared his throat, looking uneasy. “Just that I wasn’t staring at you. The window was open, so I thought you’d be awake. Climbed up and saw you still sleeping, didn’t want to wake you so…” Again he scratched his head. How sweet of him. She restrained herself from giggling. Who would have thought that a witcher could be so … charming? Was charming the right word?

Interrupting her stream of thoughts, Eskel cleared his throat, placing his hands in front of him on the table. “Now what? You climbing outside again? Trying to get further down?”

She nodded her head slowly. He did look like he wanted to say more, yet he didn’t continue. “What are you thinking about? Care to enlighten me?” She gave him an encouraging smile.

 “Just thinking. Not important right now.”

She hummed. Fine. If he didn’t want to talk, she wouldn’t pressure him. Shrugging, she cleaned the table and went over to the window and opened it. Not looking at the witcher, who was still sitting at the table, she clapped her hands. “Back to work then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer one!  
> Feel freeto leave comments, I love to hear your thoughts and ideas! They're one of the reasons I'm continuing writing


	9. Chapter 9

After her enthusiastic entrance, Yanna’d remembered the makeshift rope, which she had hidden under her bed the night before. Hurrying back upstairs to fetch it, she came back into the kitchen to find Eskel standing at the window, swords on his back.

“I’ll try to cut down some of the branches from the rose bushes. Wouldn’t want you to fall right into one.” He didn’t look at her while he talked, but examined the ground below. Good for Yanna, since he couldn’t see the light blush on her cheeks with his back to her. It was quite touching that he cared for her. Or did he? Maybe he saw her as his protégée. After all she’s the one hiring him… Apropos. She still had to find a way to pay him. Did he know that she owned nothing? Or did he hope it came to a fight with Cyril so that he could loot his house? She doubted that… Eskel wasn’t the type of person to-

She stopped her stream of thoughts, realizing that she started to like him. But not only has she started to like him, she started to _trust_ him. Something she thought, she’d never do again in her live. Not after what her parents had done. And yet it had happened so easily… Besides coming to trust Eskel, she wanted him to be the person she’d gladly be with. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe not. He was a witcher. Surely he had no interest in her. Witchers had no time for relationships, did they? Damn… What had she gotten herself into? Meeting him had turned her whole life upside down, leaving her to break her own rules.

Eskel was already making his way down to the ground, when Yanna snapped back into reality. Rubbing her face with her free hand, she closed the door behind her with a shove of her backside. Binding the cloth on the handle and she made sure it would hold tight. Gathering the rest of the rope, she went over to the window and looked down at Eskel, who was already back on his feet, hacking leaves and branches from the bushes with one of his swords.

Sighing, her concerns about their progressing relationship still in mind, she started to descend. She had the rope in a tight grip - so tight, her knuckles had turned white and her whole body tensed. Puffing, she filled her lungs with air to shout down to Eskel, that she was coming. A warning, so that she wouldn’t knock him down if she’d fall. If she’d make it that far…

Now that she had time for her thoughts, she came back to the matter at hand. What would happen when she was free and Eskel’s job done? Of course he would leave to the next town for his next contract. Right? But she didn’t want him to leave her behind. Besides, where would she go? Surely she had to go far, far way so that Cyril wouldn’t find her. So that she could be living the life she always wanted. Far away from any experiments and towers. But where? Funnily she could imagine a life following Eskel on the road, never coming to a stop. But she couldn’t think of her traveling to some place to start from scratch. She had nothing, she had no one. And going back to her family was no option. Who knew if her parents were still alive? If they were – well, Yanna would gladly change that. Nearly drowning in her thoughts, she didn’t notice how far she had left the window behind already – and how close the ground was.

Eskel had gone completely silent, just like his medallion - no vibration that usually took over the wolf’s head when he was close to the tower – which he didn’t notice, since he was more interested in the progress of the woman. He had his swords still in his hand, but his eyes were on Yanna. How concentrated she looked. How far she had come. How her golden hair reflected the sun and how her blue dress hugged her legs in the wind. How-

Yanna lost her footing as she slipped from one of the stones. Surprised she gasped, but also loosened the grip on the rope. Stifling a scream, she tried her best to grab it again. Shit! She should have paid more attention to where she was putting her feet, instead of plotting her revenge on her parents. Looking panicked down for help, she realized that Eskel was only some feet under her – he really wasn’t that far away. When had she gotten that close to the ground? Had she really mastered the barrier?

The witcher stepped closer to the wall, extending his arms – readying himself to catch her. “Let go of that rope. I got you. Trust me.” _Trust me._ She repeated the words in her head. She did trust him. Unconditionally. And with that realization, Yanna loosened her grip on the cloth and let herself glide through the air until she was caught by his strong and – very – muscular arms. A rather short drop, yet with a pleasant impact. Her arms slid around his shoulder, her fingers touching behind his neck, while her eyes met his. Golden as ever. His scent – the leather, the earth - mixed with the intense smell of the roses surrounding them.

He didn’t let go of her – to her surprise. Actually, his hold on her was quite careful, as if he didn’t want to hurt her in any way. And he returned her glance. The eye contact lasted for what felt like an eternity. But then she realized that she was on the ground. Outside the tower. How she longed for her feet to touch the grass! She wanted to roll in it until it would stain her dress with its green. Run around like a child, until she couldn’t breathe anymore from the exhaustion. She wanted to touch the earth, the roses and walk barefoot through the stream nearby.

Coyly she broke the eye contact. Taking in her surroundings. How far away her bedroom was now. How small she was beside the giant tower. Eskel cleared his throat and let her carefully down. He must have guessed her desire. Yanna, still not believing what had just happened, took a step. She was so full of awe that she didn’t dare to make a sound. How was this even possible? This must be a dream. Another step. It really had been that easy? To escape her prison, which she couldn’t have left for over a decade? All it had taken was the help of a witcher. A certain witcher. She smiled widely, her eyes searching for Eskel’s. He was looking at her wordlessly, seemingly interested in her reaction. The grass tickled her feet, her toes. A branch from the rosebush laid beside her left foot, she lifted it and turned it in her hand. Then the world around her turned pitch black and she fell to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* o no. soo close and yet so far  
> what's happening??


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some gore and repulsiveness in this chapter.

Everything was black. The blood in her ears rushed.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Screams. In the distance. Screams and a fire. The smell of burning wood and something else. Burning flesh. The smell of decay and smoke.   
Withdrawing from the pitch black expanse was the red and orange of a fire. People were running helplessly around. The grey smoke was fuming up.

And Yanna could do nothing. Only stare at them and listen to their screams and the blood rushing in her ears.

* * *

 

As soon as Yanna had lost her consciousness Eskel rushed to her side. Only just catching her from hitting the ground. Everything had seemed like they’d succeeded. Everything was fine. Yanna had been happy. He had seen the awe in her eyes. How careful she had been placing her naked feet on the ground… It had been like watching a newborn foal stumble through the newly discovered world.

But what’d happened?

* * *

 

The screams had vanished. Only to be replaced by Yanna’s.

The view in front of her changed as she was spinning around and around. She stopped rapidly. She was in the middle of a pit. A pit full of humans. Dead humans. Decaying humans. Beheaded humans. Humans with open stomachs. Flies, beetles and other vermin were crawling over the bodies. Out of their wide opened mouths. Over the sickly pale skin, the empty eyes.

If she could, she would vomit right there. Yet she couldn’t move or speak or do anything. Only stare and stare.

* * *

 

“Yanna.” No reaction.

“ _Yanna_.” Again, no reaction.

Eskel checked Yanna’s pulse – a bit fast, yet she was alive. He kept her head on his lap, while he examined her. Nothing outwardly had happened to her. She had just passed out. Right on the spot.

She was still. Yanna made neither distressed sounds nor moved. It seemed like she was sleeping.

The witcher lightly slapped her cheek, trying to get her back to consciousness. She turned her head and breathed soundly out – yet nothing else. So she did react to her surroundings. At least something.

He sighed and lifted the woman up to carry her over to the entrance of the tower. He had left Scorpion there, along with his bedroll. They could make camp there, until Yanna was awake again.

Eskel was nearly around the tower with Yanna in his arms, until he noticed that something was off. Scorpion was still there, grassing calmly, but there was another person. He could smell _his_ scent – a rather costly perfume with a lot of different ingredients. A smelled familiar but he couldn’t quite allocate it. Cautiously Eskel continued his turn. It proved to be difficult having to carry a rather delicate woman while trying to be ready for something, anything to come. Yet it was a good decision, concerning who was there waiting for him. Or did he wait for Yanna?

* * *

 

She didn’t want to weep. She didn’t want to cry for help either. All she wanted was to leave this place, wherever she was.

The blackness around her had grown again. Swallowing every dead body, every vermin. Until it was only Yanna again. It was only her and the darkness. The black made her sick. Everything felt so close. She had no air to breath. She couldn’t move. She didn’t know if her eyes were open or closed. How much time had passed since she was here? Was she alive? Was she dead? Where was Eskel? Where was she?

Laughter was faintly audible somewhere around her.

* * *

 

Leaning against the door in his usual black attire was Cyril. The witcher’s usual snarl - thanks to his scar – became more prominent at the sight of the sorcerer. He was the last one he had expected. And yet he wasn’t surprised to see him.

“Vatt'ghern. I had nearly lost all my hopes that you would finally come and rescue her. But here you are after all!”

Cyril’s black hair was combed back the same way it had been the day they’d met. The hook of his nose, the smug grin. Everything of this man begged Eskel to punch him. But he didn’t. The witcher only tightened his grip around Yanna. He wouldn’t give her to the sorcerer. But why did he know about their plan? And for how long?

“What do you want?” It sounded more like a growl than a question. Eskel didn’t care.

Cyril pushed himself off the door and strode closer, like a cat circling an injured bird that was completely at its mercy.

“What I want? Oh, it pains me that you don’t realize. Or do you realize yet don’t want to oblige?” He paused, tilting his head - examining the witcher amusedly. “Why, I want Yanna, of course. She is my ward. It is my duty to look after her. Surely you know about her-“, he waved his hand around, searching for the right word to use, “her peculiarity. She needs my whole attention.”

“Don’t think so.” Eskel eyed Scorpion. He was still grassing. Yanna was starting to become too heavy for him to carry any longer. He needed his arms free to fight against Cyril, but he couldn’t leave her out in the open. The sorcerer could just teleport her away if he’d get his fingers on her.

“No? Well, as I see it, our dear Yanna isn’t particularly well. See?” He stepped closer, his hands clasped together, looking like a lecturing father pointing out the obvious mistake of his child. Eskel backed off, which left Cyril with a frown.

“You don’t know what’s happening, do you?” The Nilfgaardian smoothed down his black clothes. „Ah, my dear vatt'ghern. Let me explain, so that you will understand.”

“I don’t have the time for a lecture.”

“Well, then let me keep it brief.” Cyril’s grin faltered – he was losing his patience. “I knew about your flourishing relationship with her. Do you think I would leave my priced asset without any surveillance?” He raised his hand in the air, murmured something and a swarm of merles followed the gesture he had made, chirping as they did. “I know all about what happened here. Why do you think was Yanna suddenly able to leave the tower? She couldn’t possibly master her ability against magic _this_ fast without any training. Here I feared it’d be too obvious for a master witcher like you. But you didn’t notice the absence of the barrier at all. A pity.”

Eskel ground his teeth. It was true. His medallion was inert. No magic around. He was too unfocused. Or rather: too focused on Yanna, who was still motionless in his arms.

“Now. Let me explain what busies our dear Yanna here. The barrier was not only keeping her inside, it was also to keep her from harm. Any harm – physical and psychical. I am certain that you know about the symptoms of a Child of the Black Sun. The cruelty, the magical resistance… and the nightmares? Well, Yanna hadn’t had a nightmare for about twelve years. My magic kept them down. Along with the other characteristics.”

Cyril began to grin at Eskel, something he would regret soon. “A tiny sleeping spell and Yanna was out. We will see how she thinks about the tower when she awakes from her nightmares.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're reaching the end ...  
> Also: I hope this chapter wasn't too confusing with all those perspective changes.


	11. Chapter 11

The laughter grew louder and louder. It sounded familiar yet she couldn’t say to whom it belonged. One moment it was female, then male, then again it didn’t sound human at all. It circled her in the darkness. It was so dark. Yanna felt like she was losing strength with every minute passing. Or were it seconds? Hours? She had lost her senses – her mind probably too.

Was is true? Did she lose her mind? It couldn’t be. Not now. Not when she was finally free. Free from the tower walls, free from Cyril’s potions and visits. Free from her past.

No. She wanted a new live. Begin anew. No bounds, no magic and no sorcerer would keep her from her freedom. And this nonsense wouldn’t either.

Yanna pulled, shoved, and kicked as hard as she could against whatever it was that kept her in this darkness. She screamed at the laughter. Told it to stop. Ordered for light. Yet nothing happened. The laughter died after a moment, only to return as screams. Yanna’s screams. Repeating what she had just done. She felt her kicks, the shoves and the pulls. Hurting her body all over.

She felt like it was over when the tears began to stream down her face - the hot tears of anger and frustration.

* * *

 

Cyril had returned to lean against the tower, Eskel knelt down and carefully laid the woman on the ground. Her head rested on his lap, while he watched over her like a hawk. He wouldn’t let Cyril near her. But the sorcerer didn’t even act like he wanted to snatch her away. He waited - patiently, silently, grinning smugly. Oh, how Eskel wanted to punch this grin out of his pale face.

Yanna suddenly moved in Eskel’s lap. The witcher glanced down and saw streams of tears running down her cheeks. She was quiet, not making any sound. Her head twitched ever so slightly. But nothing more.

“Ah, so the nightmares are finally showing an effect on her. It was about time.” Cyril crossed his arms, yet remained where he was - out of the witcher’s reach.

Eskel snarled at the sorcerer, but wiped the tears away. “How long?”

“What do you mean, vatt'ghern?” He tilted his head. Smug asshole.

“How long will she be asleep?” Eskel’s voice rose. When Yanna was awake and safe, he swore to himself, he would punch every single tooth out of his mouth.

“Oh... She is free to wake up. It only depends on her willpower to do so. My magic was only to make her _fall_ asleep.”

The witcher faced the woman again. Touching her shoulders, shaking her lightly, yet determined to wake her up. She didn’t wake up. Cursing he searched in his pouch for a potion. Anything with a disgusting stench would do.

* * *

 

Yanna sobbed and cried, only to be mocked by the voices around her. They repeated her, those many voices she knew yet didn’t. And if these weren’t already enough, she heard a whisper from further away. One she could sort right away – Eskel. Now it was his turn to mock her. Yanna’s wailing increased.

He repeated her name over and over again, sounding more and more desperate with every time. Unlike the others who grew impatient. They started to scream louder and louder. As if… as if they wanted to shut Eskel out.

The others began to shout her name, trying to drown Eskel. _Yanna_. **Yanna**. **_YANNA_**. Everyone was saying her name, one way or the other. Screaming, whispering, sighing, laughing.

“Eskel?” She struggled to hear his answer. So quiet, she thought she was being fooled by wishfulness. _Yanna_.

“Eskel!” She listened intently – trying to make him out. Where was he? She turned – or it felt like she did – and searched for him in the dark. _Yanna_. She stepped closer to where she thought him to be. His voice became more audible the closer she came. _Yanna_. He wasn’t that far anymore. It grew colder around her – pleasantly cold. Like a fresh breeze in a warm crowded room. _Yanna_. Only a bit further.

“Nana!” She stopped. She had stopped so suddenly her legs were about to give in. That voice. That name. She had heard it long ago and never thought to hear it again. It wasn’t possible.

She turned to look over her shoulder – not really expecting to see anything in the pitch black room. But there was something. A shimmer. A swirl. Just like when you look at a flame and the air around it flickers.

The breeze was tugging on her hair and her dress – trying to pull her closer to Eskel. His whisper was pleading her to come to him. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

Turning away from the pleasant draft, the blonde stepped back into the heat, the suffocating emptiness. The flicker stayed were it was – much to Yanna’s relieve.

“Nana?” The same high pitched voice, sounding ever so childish as it had done so many years ago. How long ago? Twenty years? No, twenty-two. Wading over to the flicker – closing the small distance between them – it was like Yanna was walking through mud or morass. Every step tired her more.

And then she arrived. The flicker, barely reaching her hip, was like a gap in the air. Yanna could look through it like she could through a dirty window. She bent down to get a better look. A cold winter breeze blew away some hair strands. A small girl, four or five years old, with blond locks just like hers stood in the middle of a patio. The patio of her childhood home – her family’s estate in Ymlac. Yanna knew every tree and stone, the colorful windows behind the girl. Even if everything was buried under a thick blanket of snow.

“Nana?”

The girl sounded so desperate, so vulnerable. Her dress was wet – soaked with snow – and her face was too. She was teary-eyed and her knee was lacerated. Yanna started to cry again at the sight of the little girl. Lost and hurt in the middle of the night.

“Nana, where are you?” The girl began to shout louder, more anxiously than before.

Yanna sobbed, rubbing her eyes. “I am here.”

“Nana!”

“I am here!” She knelt down, shouting at the flicker in the air, hoping her sister would hear her. But she didn’t, and no one came to comfort her.

“Mimi, I’m here. Get inside. You’ll get sick.” The tears were rushing down her cheeks, making it even harder for Yanna to look at her little sister.

Yanna hadn’t seen this in the past. Even though it had been her doing. It had been her doing that her sister caught a cold and a fever and died from it. Because of a dumb joke.

She had lured her sister outside in the middle of a winter night. It had been a rather long and cruel winter. She remembered that her parents had been concerned about their duchy. Yanna, seven years old at that time, had told her sister that she had seen something in the patio. Something, she couldn’t remember what – a fairy or ghost – and her sister, as loyal and sweet as she was, followed her outside, with nothing on than her thin bed gown. While they had stalked through the snow, Yanna quickly hid behind a pillar, without her sister noticing, and made weird noises to scare her. Which had worked – Mihaila got scared and run off, stumbling and hitting her knee on the cold stone floor. She had cried for her, but Yanna didn’t listen. She got back inside, giggling over the face her sister had made when she got scared by the 'ghost'.

Seeing Mimi like this, teary-eyed and hurt, alone in the dark. She felt so sorry. Of course this tiny child would catch a cold. Of course she wouldn’t be able to recover from the fever. She was so thin, so vulnerable. Yanna sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. She was the worst sister. The dumbest, the cruelest. Why had she done this? What for? Mihaila had been the only person to be not scared of her. The only one who had loved her regardless of her curse. And what had Yanna done? Kill the only family she had.

Even when she was sick – too weak to eat proper food, too tired to stay away for long - Mimi hadn’t betrayed her older sister. She had told her parents she had seen something outside and wanted to inspect – not one word about Yanna or her prank. After Mimi had died her parents grew even more distant. Mimi’s death had been the turning point in Yanna’s life.

Mimi’s sobbing grew silent, she was on her way back inside – limping. Gasping for air, Yanna’s body cramped. She couldn’t cry anymore. She wanted to get out of here. She wanted to forget about this moment in her life.

She tried to get back on her feet, but the mud around her fastened her to the ground. Another gust of ice cold wind and the flicker before her was gone and Yanna was left in the darkness. She pulled and pulled, barely making progress. But slowly she rose to her feet. Fighting against her invisible opponent, she returned to where she thought Eskel had been. There was no whisper. No _Yanna._ Nothing. Just utter silence.

No sound, no light. But a stench. Yanna retched. What was that? Her stomach turned and twisted, she tried not to breath but the smell was everywhere.

* * *

 

With a gasp Yanna opened her eyes. Her blue eyes were bloodlined and puffed. But she was awake. Eskel smiled at her and Yanna could breathe again. She was back. She was awake and in Eskel’s arms. She returned the smile, even if she was still broken and pained with the image of her sister in mind.

“Ah, Yanna. Finally awake.”

Her eyes went wide and she shot up in surprise and anger. Eskel had to pull away fast, otherwise he would have head butted Yanna. Cyril, leaning against the tower wall, grinned at Yanna. His hand were clasped together and his eyes without any emotion.

“Sleep well?” His grin widened. Yanna swallowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long one! Sorry for taking so long.   
> A teeny-tiny bit of Yanna's past.   
> I actually made myself all teary-eyed there for a moment. Hope you enjoy!


	12. Chapter 12

“What are you doing here?” Yanna’s voice was hoarse.

“I could ask you the same, my dear.” Cyril came closer, strutting like the peacock he was.

“Actually I will. What are you doing here? To the best of my believe your residence was up there.” He pointed at her bedroom chamber. “I can’t recall, allowing you to leave.” He tilted his head at her. His brown eyes glinted in the sunlight.

Eskel, who was at that time standing again behind her, offered Yanna his hand. With his help she got up on her feet and faced Cyril directly. She felt neither fear nor shame seeing him here, only hatred. She clenched her jaw and her fists, trying to calm herself before she said something she would later regret.

“If you haven’t permitted me to go outside, then why am I still here?” She pressed her lips into a straight line. If he wouldn’t stop acting so superior…

“Ah, ah, ah.” The sorcerer lifted one finger - a straight line appeared between Yanna’s brows as she looked at it. Eskel stepped closer, Yanna could feel his tension. “Answer my question.” Cyril looked sternly into her eyes, mirroring her countenance.

Was he serious? “You haven’t even answered mine!” Yanna’s voice was high pitched, she was frustrated - apparently a feeling that wouldn’t leave her side this day.

“Admit that you wanted to leave me. Admit that you wanted to run away, you unthankful-“

Cyril couldn’t finish his sentence. Not before Yanna’s fist hit his nose – hard. So hard that the bone cracked under her fingers. She wanted to hit him again, and again. Until he was only a blubbering picture of misery. But Eskel held her back: “Hey!” A soft warning – not really reaching the woman’s ear.

The witcher had grabbed Yanna’s other hand before she could lunge out at the bleeding sorcerer before her, who was holding his nose with his long pale fingers. He cursed – something that Yanna would’ve never expected from him. He cursed like a sailor, using terms she had never heard of.

Yanna tried to free herself from Eskel’s arms, but he held her close. His arms were slung around her waist, keeping her arms at her sides. “Not now. You’re only proving his point.”

She was confused. “His point?” She struggled – this time because she was craning her neck to look Eskel in the eyes, questioning his claim. What had happened between the two?

Cyril must’ve taken his chance and healed his nose – smeared blood was the only remainder. “You.” His eyes burned with anger, his face was paler than usual, his normally neatly combed black hair was ruffled – Cyril’s professionalism was gone and replaced by wild wrath.

“You are an abomination. A cruel freak.”

He stepped closer – so close to Yanna that could feel his breath on her face. She closed her eyes in disgust for a moment. Eskel tensed against her back. He had been quiet the whole time…

“Look at me when I talk to you!” Yanna obeyed and opened her eyes. Sadly Cyril was still there.

“I have taken you under my care. Fed you, gave you a home, bore you company”, Yanna scoffed, “and helped you. And what do you do? You run away!”

“I didn’t ask you for any of it!” She was screaming, struggling against Eskel’s arms.

“But who do you have left, except for me? You have no one! No one wants you!” Cyril examined her, head to toes, looking disgusted. “And why would they? Look at you. You are like an animal. Wild and mindless.” His voice was calm. As if he wanted to make the difference between him and her even more obvious.

Yanna didn’t care as she screamed at him. Loud and wild and mindless. Cyril wanted an animal? She would give it to him. If Eskel would only let her go. She would make Cyril pay. Let him feel her rage, the frustration that had built up in her over the years.

“So uncontrolled. I wonder why…”

Cyril grabbed Yanna’s chin, his fingers pressed against her chin, probably leaving a mark. He made her look at his face, at his smile – he knew something. He was holding something back. Yanna had gone quiet, she was too distracted by her racing thoughts about what he could possibly mean. Whereas Eskel had enough. He had enough with the sorcerer and his play. Yanna deserved the truth and not this nonsense.

Eskel let go of Yanna and grabbed Cyril’s wrist instead, squeezing it until he let go of Yanna’s chin.

“Quit the shit and tell her already.” His deep voice barely more than a growl.

Cyril ripped his wrist out of Eskel’s grasp, massaging it while he looked at Yanna with the same disgust she offered him.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why you weren’t as cruel as tales tell? That you didn’t suffer from nightmares?” Her eyes went wide. She had never really thought about it… She had thought that the tales were only that – tales.

“Not once?” Cyril huffed.

“Did you think you were the exception? That you would be _different?_ ” Yanna didn’t like how he emphasized the last word. Because she had indeed thought so, had hoped that she could change, make a difference. But she had been wrong all the time.

She let her head hang. Her throat was soar and her eyes were burning. She felt foolish. So, so foolish.

Cyril chuckled. And then his chuckle turned into laughter. Loud, hearty laughter without any mercy.

Tears were once again streaming down Yanna’s cheeks. When would this day end? She longed for her bed. She wanted to hide under the blankets and never leave them again. Back into the tower, were she would die as an old sad woman. Suddenly the hideous laughter stopped and was replaced by coughing – gasping for air. Followed by a muffled _thump_. Yanna looked up -  or better down again further away - at Cyril, who was lying in the grass, holding his stomach with a bleeding cheek.

Eskel stood above him, hitting him over and over again. His face was an emotionless mask. He was thrashing the sorcerer. For her.

Stumbling forward, Yanna swiped the tears off her face and grabbed Eskel’s raised hand. She didn’t even have to use much of her strength to stop him – he stopped on his own only by her touch. They looked at each other, eyes wide. Eskel’s breath was calm and controlled, Yanna’s was shaky. She loosened her grip around his hand and hugged him – for the first time. He held her close, combing her hair with his fingers.

“It was all a ruse. My magic protected you, Yanna. You are not different. Only naïve.” Cyril coughed.

The other two ignored him, holding each other tightly.

“I want to leave.” Yanna’s words were muffled by Eskel’s jacket. She craned her neck to look at Cyril and repeated: “I want to leave.”

“Then go. Go, you ungrateful brat. Succumb to your wretchedness and become the monstrosity you are born to be.” Bleeding and disheveled Cyril sat up.

“You won’t follow me? Won’t claim me as your property?”She loosened her embrace and faced Cyril directly.

The sorcerer shook his head, looking defeated. “I am done with you, child. You cost me more than you are worth. Do whatever you want to do. Ruin your life, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He snarled at her. Then his eyes wandered over to Eskel. “Take your watchdog and leave. I won’t follow you, but if I ever see or hear about you ever again-“

“You won’t.” Eskel slid his arm around Yanna’s shoulder, which made Cyril grimace even more.

Yanna nodded her head, agreeing. “You won’t.”

“-I will kill and dissect you.” And with a wave of his hand a portal appeared where the tower’s entrance was just a second before. Cyril struggled to get back on his feet.  Swaying he limped through it and was gone - and with him the portal.

Yanna could only stare at the doorframe in disbelieve.


	13. Chapter 13

Eskel’s hand moved from her lower back to her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “We should probably leave – quickly. Before he changes his mind-“

“I don’t believe him.” Yanna replied slowly, her eyes still glued on the door of her former prison. “He will come back. He won’t let me go. He doesn’t-“

The witcher stepped in front of her, thus blocking her view. “Hey.”

Ever so carefully his fingers curled around her chin – unlike Cyril who had been hurting her with his iron grip – and made her face him, made her look at his worried cat-like eyes. “He’s gone. And even if it is just for now – I’m here. I won’t let him take you.” A small smile played around his lips.

It took her a moment to understand - to process - what he just said: He didn’t intend to leave her – at least for a while. Yanna’s eyes filled with tears. If from exhaustion, pain or a sudden outburst of emotions she couldn’t tell. Everything was happening so fast. Her future had changed dramatically in a matter of a few minutes. Something she had never dared to hope for. And yet it had just happened. Because of the contract, because of Eskel’s willingness to kill the wraith, that had haunted her middays. Suddenly she was rather thankful for this bloody ghost and its terrible wailing.

The few hot tears that rolled down her cheeks were wiped away by Eskel’s thumb. He had stepped closer - Yanna could feel his warmth against her body. His golden eyes had captured her blue ones. His warm and rough hands were cupping her cheeks. Her legs were shaking, threatening to give up any moment. But Eskel was her anchor, he kept her upright. He leaned down, painfully slow, while she stood there with a racing heart and shaking legs. Yanna took a deep breath and raised herself on tiptoes before her hands found their way to his hips. For a moment they just looked each other in the eyes, waiting for the other one to make the final move. But then, as if there had been a silent consent, their lips met, their eyes were closed.  

It was soft kiss. Sweet and oh, so soft. It didn’t last long, but it was everything. At least it felt like that. Yanna’s troubles and frustrations of the past moments, days, _years_ had been pushed away by a simple, yet wonderful kiss. They pulled away simultaneously, his hands dropping to her waist, ending the sweet kiss. Her heart still racing, she opened her eyes to see that Eskel was looking at her – waiting for a reaction. She smiled at him – relived and… thankful. Seeing her smile, he moved again towards her, not to kiss her, no, but to lean his forehead against her – carefully, gently.

She cupped his cheeks this time, taking a moment before speaking with a soft whisper: “So, what do we do now?”

His chest vibrated as he chuckled. “Leave this hell of a place and travel north for an instance.”

“North?”

“I know a place where it should be difficult for the bloody sorcerer to follow.” He grinned at her with a glint in his eyes.

She eyed the ground, pondering over his words. Eskel really wanted to keep up with her. As a witcher- shouldn’t he want to return to his life on the road? Yanna was still not looking at him as she asked: ”Do you really want this? I mean, you’re a witcher. You travel and hunt monsters, I don’t-“

He pulled away, her hands fell back to her sides. “I know what I am and I know what you are. And I don’t care. I said I’d help you and that’s what I intend to do. Once I know you’re safe – we’ll see. But for now… Travelling with you sounds good for me.” His voice was barely a whisper as he finished.

Her eyes shot back up, looking at him taken aback. She wouldn't have expected that kind of reply, but she was more than happy about it. Once again she cupped his cheeks, having to get back up on her tiptoes, and kissed his scar. He flinched, but after the initial surprise he leaned in.

“I’d be lucky to travel with you, Eskel.” She smiled warmly at him. He returned the gesture.

The witcher stepped beside her and his arm slipped around her waist, pulling her with him as he approached the majestic black horse that had been calmly grazing the whole time. As if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Does it have a name?”

“Scorpion.”

Yanna raised an eyebrow at that. Scorpion, really? Somehow she had expected something more… simpler.

Eskel looked at her. “What?”

“Nothing.” She tried to hide her grin, but failed miserably.

He squeezed her waist and then pulled away. She stroke the horse’s nostrils, admiring it’s beauty, while Eskel readied everything for their depart – his satchels, saddle and reins. He mounted Scorpion and waited for her.

“Ready?”

Yanna turned around, facing the tower for the last time. Her prison, her home, her ‘protection’. She looked up and silently bid her bedchamber window farewell. She would miss her bed. But beside that, nothing else. A new life awaits – something like that was written down in one of her old books. A fitting phrase, she thought. With a sigh – a relieved one – she nodded. Yanna returned to Eskel, took his hand and got in front of him in the saddle. And with his arms around her waist, the two of them rode north. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, done. What a ride.  
> A kiss, a farewell and our story has come to an end - or has it?  
> I know it was a rather short chapter, but everything that had to be said, had been said and Eskel and Yanna are on the road now.   
> For the next part, I plan to make a series of one-shots (or in some cases two-shots), in which we see what the two experience on their travel north.  
> I'd love to hear what you guys think, feel or want to say! So please feel free to leave a comment! Critique is welcome and very much appreaciated. ^^


End file.
